Disclaimer: As I am neither Dick Wolf or in his will, these beautiful people are not real or mine (except Alex Munch).
Olivia sighed and curled tighter. She was glad John had invited her to his apartment. If Elliot hadn't caught chicken pox from one of the twins, perhaps she wouldn't have ended up on a wild goose chase all across Manhattan with her partner-for-a-day, Munch, who would instead be sorting out tips and records pertaining to the serial rapist while she and Elliot tracked him down in their usual methodical manner.
It had been nearly midnight when John decided they needed sleep. They wound up so close to his apartment that he offered Olivia his bed. They had a beer of two each, then Olivia curled up in Munch's delightfully soft feather bed. After she appeared to be sound asleep, a slightly drunken Munch climbed into bed with her. It'd been so long since a woman had used that bed...perhaps he thought her to be his wife. He snaked his arm around her waist and dozed off. Olivia was slightly aware of it—she was almost asleep. Did he know, perhaps, that this was the place she'd dreamed of, how she'd wanted so much to snuggle up with him on a cold New York night like this, with the snow beating gently on his windows? Her mind already in a state of ecstasy, the detective fell asleep.
"Hey, Alex," Munch said as he sat up in bed.
"I made you breakfast," the girl proudly stated. Olivia raised a slender eyebrow with her eyes at the child. She looked very much like the most recent Alex she had known—the girl had her long, slender body with well-defined curves, although she was only beginning adolescence by the looks of it. Her hair, however, has a dark, silky black, like Munch's used to be, Olivia presumed. She had Olivia's wide smile and delicate nose, but the eyes were Munch's—trusting, like a teddy bear, but with a touch of trickery lurking somewhere beneath the surface.
Olivia looked at her left hand. A simple twisted gold ring entwined her slender ring finger, neatly adorning her long hands. She loved that ring the instant she saw it—it was beautiful. It was so simple yet elegant, like her beloved "late" ADA. "I guess I must be Mrs. John Munch," she told herself contentedly. "This is better than I ever imagined."
"Well? Do you want some?" the young Alex asked, shifting from foot to foot in anticipation.
"And just what might you be serving us," she said, looking at Munch with a twinkle in her eye, "this morning?"
"Blueberry waffles," Alex replied.
"Well, I think I'd better have one to see whether they're good or not." Munch reached for the offered waffle on the prettiest blue china Olivia had seen, Perhaps it was their wedding china. "Mmm...I mean, Alex, dear, I think there must've been a mix up in the kitchen. These are awful. I think I'll have to protect you and your mother from them. Here, give the rest to me," he playfully instructed, his chocolate brown eyes laughing.
Alex jumped to the other side of the bed and gave Olivia a waffle, heavy on the organic maple syrup.
"Oh, this is perfect, honey," Olivia remarked, half to Alex, and half to John. Slowly blinking her eyes, she felt happier than she'd ever felt in memory. She'd gone from being without a family to having her own. A sharp pain in the back of her knee startled her. Opening her eyes sleepily, she realized that the still-asleep John had kicked her. Smiling, still partly in her dream, Olivia rubbed his back and curled tighter. Thank God Elliot had never had chicken pox before.